HOW TITA COMES TO OAKDEAN, AND IS GLAD.

AND HOW MAURICE CALLS TO HER, AND SHE PERFORMS AN ACROBATIC FEAT.

AND HOW A DISCUSSION ARISES.
What a day it is! Golden light everywhere; and the sounds of singing birds, and the perfume of the late mignonette and stocks.

Who shall say summer is gone?
Tita, flitting gaily through the gardens and pleasure-grounds of her old dear home, her beloved Oakdean, tells herself that it is summer _here _at all events, whatever it may be in other stupid homes.
Oakdean to-day is at its best, and that is saying a great deal.

The grand old lawn, studded here and there with giant beeches, seems sleeping solemnly in the warm light, and to their left the lake lies, sleeping too, rocking upon its breast the lily leaves, whose flowers are now all gone.